


Bloodied Lips, Ash Covered Kiss

by Kestrealbird



Series: Curious Companions [2]
Category: Lupin III
Genre: Blood Drinking, F/M, M/M, Near Death Experience, Siren! Fujiko, Trans Male Character, Trans! Goemon, Vampire! Goemon, Vignette's, Werewolf! Jigen, alcohol consumption, half naked tengu people, monster au, the ultimate kink: Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 07:40:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16488455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kestrealbird/pseuds/Kestrealbird
Summary: There’s still blood in Jigen’s mouth, and even from this distance Goemon can smell it. His throat feels dry.





	Bloodied Lips, Ash Covered Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> AYYY THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE POSTED ON HALLOWEEN BUT I GOT A NEW KITTEN RECENTLY (her name is Luna she's a munchkin and she's got heterochromia i wuv her) AND I WAS SO FOCUSED ON MY COSTUME THAT I ENDED UP NOT STARTING IT UNTIL HALLOWEEN and then I didn't finish it until today soooooo. Yeah. I'm gonna preface this fic by saying that in this AU (as per my friend Ana's drawings because they're great and I love them) Goemon has a shirt under his kimono and, because we've talked about this a lot, his skin is like a gray-blue colour and because he's technically 'dead' his blush is blue instead of pink/red. UsEless info but there ya go. LORE DUMPS YAY

Feeding has never been a problem for Goemon before. Unlike  _ western _ vampires, he doesn't need an invitation to cross someone's threshold, so it’s easy for him to take a blood pack or two from local hospitals. He’d prefer not to drink from the wildlife but sometimes he has to, when he’s travelling or employed by less savoury types. That changes when he meets Lupin. Not the employment - he still has his own life outside of thieving - but the supply of blood. He finds that there’s always some in the fridge for him, whenever he returns, and Fujiko carries small vials of it on her person, “just in case,” she tells him. 

Jigen doesn't do much by way of helping. He doesn't leave the room when Goemon feeds, at least, but his nose always scrunches up. It’s understandable and Goemon takes no offence. Wolves don't need blood to survive, but the instinct to take and kill is still there, lurking beneath Jigen’s skin the same way it whispers in the back of Goemon’s mind, or calls Fujiko back to the sea. 

It’s easy enough to ignore. Doesn’t make it pleasant, though.

So, feeding has never been a problem before. But then Goemon has never been starved in a jail-cell for days on end, either. If he was sharing this cell with someone on the brink of death, then he’d at least be able to feed and put them out of their misery, but he can't, because his other cell-mate isn’t someone he wants to feed from. The taste would be too addicting.

Jigen got thrown in here two days after Goemon did, and he’s making a good show of pretending that the blessed silver shackle around his neck isn’t hurting him. The burns appearing on his skin tell a different story, and he’s beginning to slump more against the wall, shivering. His wrists are tied together with a thick cord of rope, his jacket and hat nowhere to be seen, shirt torn and falling off his shoulders. 

Good. That means he put up a fight, and didn't risk himself just to save Goemon. He’s imagined Jigen in dishevelled states before - usually above him, with a cocky grin on his lips and alcohol on his breath - but Goemon feels no satisfaction or arousal at the sight before him now. Mostly he just feels helpless. 

Lupin will get here soon enough, he knows, but that doesn't stop the worry gnawing in his gut. Cursing himself for not feeding more before he attempted infiltrating this place, Goemon sidles up next to Jigen, attempting to offer whatever warmth he can through his clothing. It’s times like this that he wishes his skin was warm instead of cold and icy. Jigen leans against him with an exhale, wincing when the silver digs into his neck. 

If he had the strength left, Goemon would tear the thing off with his bare hands and beat the guards to death with it. 

Jigen looks up at him, taking in how much gray has taken over the usual blue tint of Goemon’s skin, and Goemon already knows what he’s about to say, tensing as the words leave his lips. “You’re starving. Just bite me already.”

They’ve had this conversation before and Goemon’s answer is still the same. “No.” He won’t drink from Jigen, not like this. Lupin and Fujiko, maybe, because they’d still be able to fight him off if he got too greedy, but Jigen? While he is weakened and his blood calls out so sweetly? Never. “I won't die,” he snips when Jigen continues to stare at him, unimpressed. It’s true. He’s hungry, yes, but not yet starved.

Jigen’s face twists into a pained smile. “No,” he agrees, baring his collarbone, “but I will.” Goemon stills at the words, his world tilting on an axis. Starvation is slow and it takes a while before it becomes truly dangerous. Jigen, he realizes, doesn't have that luxury. 

“What if I take too much?” Goemon’s voice shakes even as he move to line up his fangs with Jigen’s collarbone. There’s no time for hesitation. No time to wait for Lupin or Fujiko. 

“You won't.” Jigen takes a few breaths, preparing for the pain. “Give yourself more credit than that yeah?” 

The blood, when it hits his tongue, is thin and watery but the taste is nothing like he’s had before; it’s ashy and wild, bitter above all else and there’s a swirl of sour emotions that rest heavy in the back of his throat. A few traces of burnt silver slide into his stomach, spurring him on to drink a little more. Instinct tells him to keep drinking - to drain all that Jigen has - and instinct lets him know that this is why wolves are so addicting. 

Goemon fights down those instincts with every fibre of self-control he has, even when Jigen’s blood warms him from the inside out, blowing his eyes wide with the taste of it. He pulls back, heaving and gasping, when Jigen nudges him with a foot. The shackle is removed almost instantly, the cord of rope severed on the floor. Jigen stretches out, rolling his neck and grinning. “See?” He teases. “I don't taste like shit after all.”

Goemon’s heart is still racing, mouth somehow even dryer than before. He smiles back all the same, relieved. “I’m sure Lupin will be happy to know that.”

He’ll be even happier to see them out of here. Goemon turns to the door, shackle clenched tightly in his fist. “You’re actually gonna beat them with it?” Jigen’s amusement floats over to him, unfogging a part of his brain. Goemon almost grins. 

“Of course,” he sniffs.”Samurai always keep our promises.”

~~~

The small mountain village still smoulders from the fires lit earlier by Don Barnard, yet the people are cheerful as ever, bouncing back from the destruction the only way that Tengu’s can; partying until they simply can't walk anymore. Alcohol flows freely from tankards and barrels and glasses, half-naked people draped over Lupin’s person as dancers fluff their feathers and fan their tails in an attempt to get extra money from him. 

Fujiko has already retired for the night, with three very enamoured “guests” to keep her warm. Goemon stays on the edges of the festivities, adrenaline still pumping through his veins. He feels a little bad for punching Jigen in the mouth earlier, even if that  _ was _ the whole point of their act.

There’s still blood in Jigen’s mouth, and even from this distance Goemon can smell it. His throat feels dry, stomach gurgling with hunger. His blood packs got destroyed in the fires, and Fujiko’s last vial did little to satisfy him, though he refused to tell her such, lest she take offence. 

He’s sure that if he asked, one of the Tengu’s would be more than willing to offer him their blood but. Well. He doesn't particularly fancy more of that sour taste. The small droplets he’d tasted in the fight with Don Barnard’s men had been enough.

Caught up in his thoughts, Goemon doesn't notice Jigen’s presence beside him until he lights up a cigarette and the smoke gets blown in Goemon’s direction by the wind. The question he asks is silent, nothing more than a raise of his brow, and Goemon answers with a shrug.

_ ‘Still hungry?’ _

_ ‘A little, yes.’ _

Jigen lets his cigarette peter out, lounging against the wall with tequila flushing his cheeks. He keeps swallowing blood where his tongue got cut on his own incisor. Goemon finds himself focusing on the bob of Jigen’s throat so raptly that when Jigen leans into his personal space, nose-to-nose to look him in the eyes, Goemon’s breath stills, shoulders tensing for the briefest moment as he imagines the feeling of a wolf’s jaws around his throat.

“Do you trust me?” Jigen murmurs against his lips. They’re both drunk on entirely different things - alcohol and adrenaline respectively - which is why, in a moment of pure insanity, Goemon says, “yes,” and closes the distance between them. 

Jigen’s tongue is smooth in Goemon’s mouth, sliding easily behind his teeth. He tastes content, this time, the bitterness of before nothing more than aftertaste in the wilderness of Jigen’s blood. Goemon hums, eyes half-lidded as he drinks down Jigen’s joy. There’s ash on their lips, in their breath and tingling through the kiss. It’s nothing ravenous; just soft and slow, a mere movement of one mouth against another, but it goes on for longer than is strictly needed and they only part ways when Lupin lets out the loudest, most ear splitting wolf whistle they’ve ever heard. 

Jigen winces, head pounding. Goemon, annoyed at the interruption, levels a fierce glare in Lupin’s direction, not at all surprised to find him cheering on the dancers with drunken gusto. The dancers give him extra attention because of his tips. 

“We really should stop this, you know,” Jigen says, unprompted. Goemon inclines his head, silent asking what he means. Jigen sighs, runs a hand through his hair. “If they keep avoiding each other like this eventually we’ll get dragged into it anyway.”

Ah. Lupin and Fujiko’s lovers tiff. Goemon lifts his head to the heavens, a heavy groan sagging his shoulders. “I am  _ not  _ interrupting Fujiko.” 

Jigen grins. “Then you can take Lupin.” He puts a hand on Goemon’s shoulder for a second, then turns around and starts half-staggering to Fujiko’s room. 

At least Lupin won't turn him deaf when he starts yelling about it. 

~~~

The car breaks down halfway between Liverpool and Yorkshire, the sun just beginning to set. Lupin glares down at the engine as if he can just will it to work again. When that doesn't work he makes a dramatic show of throwing his hands up and stalking back down the hill to a village they passed 20 minutes ago.

Goemon’s stomach twists, reminding him that he hasn't fed since yesterday. He looks over at the glove compartment, decides he’s simply too tired to reach out for it, and folds back into his seat, slumping down the only way someone can after knowing Jigen for years. 

Fujiko doesn't stir where she sleeps in the front, curled up under Lupin’s jacket and using Goemon’s high-neck shirt as a pillow. 

It’s odd having this much skin exposed under his kimono, not that anyone in current company cares about it, when he’s spent most of his life covered up to hide his differences. 

His stomach growls even louder, eliciting a sudden snort from Jigen and making Goemon blush a dark blue, suddenly willing the earth to swallow him whole. 

“I’m sure Lupin won't mind giving you -” Goemon must give off a certain kind of disgust, because Jigen cuts himself off with peals of wheezing laughter. Fujiko snuffles in her sleep.

“He just tastes so...bland.” Jigen doubles over, clutching his stomach.

“Like -” wheeze - “w-water bland or tofu bland?”

He considers this for a moment. “Both,” he says, completely serious. Jigen snorts again, shaking his head. Neither of them brings up the Fujiko Incident™ for various reasons. Goemon still makes no move to get blood out of the glove compartment, even when his stomach starts up an even more embarrassing chorus of sounds. 

_ Maybe I’ll just die, _ he thinks, trying to become one with the leather seats of the fiat (no matter what Lupin says he refuses to call it ‘The Cooliest Yellow Babe On The Road’ no matter how much he gets begged to do so).

Jigen rolls up his sleeve, smiling. “This is becoming a habit,” he jokes, offers his arm, veins exposed on his wrist. Goemon wonders what it says about him that he hardly hesitates to lean down, fangs elongated, and softly sink his mouth upon Jigen’s skin, eyes fluttering as warmth floods into his mouth and slides down his throat. 

The bitterness has faded somewhat, replaced, instead, with something ashy that tingles as it leaves his tongue. He doesn't know what emotion that's supposed to be, but as he detaches himself from Jigen’s wrist, licking the residue from his lips, Goemon finds that he rather likes the taste.

Jigen uses clawed fingertips to tilt his face up, stealing Goemon’s breath in a single, biting kiss. It doesn't last nearly as long as he wants it to. Lupin is jogging back up the hill with a repair kit in his hands, but there’s a promise for later, just like there always is. Addiction, Goemon has come to learn, will always be his undoing.


End file.
